Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

After quite a few drinks at the bar, the group decides to head to the Casino. I’m back at the roulette table and am winning.

The Prince and Daniel show up late. The Prince sees me and catches my eye. I give him an angry glare, causing him to put his head down and retreat, going off instead to greet Peter and his cousins. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just takes up a position across the table from me, so I can’t help but look into those baby blues. When a woman starts flirting with him, it distracts me. It’s hard to pay attention to everyone around me—constantly scan the room for possible threats or clues—and keep playing, all while controlling my urge to rip the woman’s arm off Daniel’s chest. I glance at my watch and contemplate a dart to her neck.

Dang, I just lost a thousand euros.

By the time she’s bought him a drink and puts her hand in his hair, I’m down another two. I take my remaining chips from the table and bow out. Honestly, I’m ready to go home. All of a sudden, the excitement of today hits me, and I’m exhausted.

Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get out of here before I act irrationally and shoot a midnight dart into the woman, who must be nearly forty, to keep her away from Daniel.

Instead, I belly up to the bar.

Daniel leaves the woman, joins me at the bar, and orders us each a beer.

It makes me want to kiss him.

“I heard you have a hot car,” he says by way of greeting.

“I have a lot of hot things.”

“Don’t I know it.” He sees me looking over at the group surrounding the Prince. “Are you going to forgive him? He feels terrible.”

“Ari said the Embassy came and got you. Do you know what happened? Who the men were?”

“Our government is researching their backgrounds. Were you scared?”

“Yes. Very,” I reply with what is expected. Honestly, I was more excited than scared.

“The shooters’ nationalities were a surprise,” he admits.

“How so?”

“One was German and the other Moroccan, but our government expects a terrorist organization will take credit.”

“Credit for what? They could have opened fire on the crowd touring the castle. It wasn’t terror. It felt like they were coming after the royal family. The Prince, specifically.”

“Another theory is that it was a test,” Daniel says, confirming what Ari and I thought. “That something bigger is to come.”

“That’s scary.”

“Don’t worry, Huntley. I’ll protect you.” God, he’s sweet. “Uh, oh. Enzo is making a beeline toward us.”

I don’t have a chance to reply before the Prince says to me, “You are understandably mad, but put yourself in my position.”

“Your position? You were freaking out. I got you out of there. If that’s how you treat your friends, I don’t want to be one of them.”

“Please, I’m sorry. They’re just trying to keep me safe.”

“Which means we should be on the same side, because that’s what I tried to do, too. Keep us both safe.”

“Please allow me to make it up to you,” the Prince pleads.

I roll my eyes, causing Daniel to say, “Come on, Huntley. It’s no fun when you’re mad. Come to the club with us.”

“You two have fun. I have other plans. If you’ll excuse me, my friends are here.”

I walk a few steps away to join the British lads, who recently arrived. Wesley gives me a kiss on the lips in greeting and places his hand on my ass.

From my position, I can also still hear Daniel and the Prince talking. Ari winks at me and joins them. He had been discreetly listening to our conversation about the gunmen.

“I don’t know what your people did to her today,” I hear Ari say to the Prince, piling on the guilt, “but she got home and just started bawling.”

Daniel returns to my side, pulling me away from my British love fest. “Ari told us that you cried when you got home.”

“It was kind of an emotional day,” I state flatly.

“Just go talk to him. Tell him you’re sorry. Make up.”

“Tell him I’m sorry? You’ve got to be kidding me, Daniel. Did he not tell you how he panicked? How he was ready to go out into the hall where the gunfire was? Did he tell you they fired shots into the room we were in, and it was only due to my quick thinking that we got out of there?”

Daniel looks concerned. “He didn’t.”

“And you didn’t care to know. You two have fun at the club.”

I turn on my heels and walk away. I’m not sure what I look like on the outside—hopefully poised and self-assured, but I don’t feel that way on the inside. I feel like my being mad at the Prince and Daniel is very real. I’m pissed at them both.

And that scares me.

Rule number one is to never get emotionally attached, because that makes you—and them—vulnerable.

I wonder if I’m really cut out for this job. Being the best in the academy doesn’t mean anything in the real world. Could I be like the college football player who wins the Heisman but then never goes on to a successful professional career?